Weak
by schnerb
Summary: Short piece looking at home Grace and Wayne deal with the breakup when they go home after work.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series

**A/N: **This is my first Mentalist piece and only second piece of fanfiction ever. It's all very nerve wracking! Bear in mind that in the UK, we haven't finished season 2 of The Mentalist yet, so I haven't seen how or if it all works out. Many thanks to the super awesome and generous ficlit for whom this is being published as a happy 4th July present as it still is July 4th here!

Grace

Grace arrived home from a long day at work. The routine would be the same. Grace liked routine and order. Especially now. It gave her control.

She would not miss the spontaneity. She refused to.

First dinner. She went to her fridge and ignored the loan bottle of his favourite beer lingering at the back. Just like she ignored the fat and salt laden crackers in her cupboard – oh, and the tub of ice cream in the freezer.

After dinner, she showered. She didn't see his razor in her bathroom cabinet next to the extra, used, toothbrush, in the same way that the fragrance free shower gel next to her lilac scented one didn't register.

Getting ready for bed Grace didn't feel the softness of the large, white cotton T shirt that lurked at the back of her draw. He must have forgotten that too, but it wasn't important because she didn't know it was there. Not really.

Getting into bed, Grace passed over the book on the night stand that had the photo of them that she used as a bookmark – she'd almost finished it but suddenly wasn't interested at the moment.

None of these things were there. Just like when you hide your favourite chocolate from yourself. You don't know it's there so you can't give in to temptation. Except you do. Because every now and again you just need to. Just a little bit. Sometimes though, it screams at you and mocks you every time you pass. Ok, it shows you are weak. But no-one except you knows right? You can live with that. Even when you know it's your fault. Usually.

"I've moved on too," she had lied.

And now she just needed a bite. One tiny bite. A little nibble. A little bit of security.

Grace went to her underwear draw and slid into a pair of large boxers before getting into bed.

None of it was really there. She could be strong. She had to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series

**A/N: **Thank you to those of you who reviewed, sent a PM or just read! We've had Grace's side, now it's Wayne's.

Wayne

Wayne arrived home from a long day at work and yet another work out session. The routine would be the same. Wayne liked routine and order. Especially now. It gave him control.

He would try not miss the spontaneity. It wouldn't be easy, but he could do it.

First dinner. He went to his fridge and looked at the bottle of her favourite low fat salad dressing he kept in the door. Just like he saw the fat free crackers in his cupboard – oh, and the tub of sorbet in the freezer.

After dinner, he showered. He looked at the hairbrush in his bathroom cabinet next to the extra, used toothbrush. The lilac shower gel stood proudly next to his fragrance free one.

Getting ready for bed Wayne opened the drawer and saw the neatly folded yoga pants and tank that she had left there. She had never asked for them back. That was good wasn't it?

Getting into bed, Wayne looked over at the small frame on the night stand that had the photo of them in it. That expression in her eyes. That couldn't just disappear overnight.

All of these things were so real and yet shouldn't be there.

"I've moved on," he had lied.

But she must have known that was a lie right? Even just a little bit? Like when you don't want to know the score of the game you recorded and hope that your team won even though everyone knows the form says otherwise.

Putting his hand under the pillow next to him he tugged at the T shirt folded under it. He inhaled deeply, her essence still on it. Because every now and again you just need to. Just a little bit. Sometimes though, it screams at you and mocks you every time you pass. Ok, it shows you are weak. But no-one except you knows right? You can live with that. Especially when it wasn't your fault. Usually.

These things hurt, but also brought a strange sort of comfort. He was proud of them, of that part of his life. He could be strong. He had to be. And these things gave him what he needed at the moment. He knew some would see it as weakness. But he didn't.

It wasn't weak to hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series

**A/N: **Thank you to those of you who reviewed, sent a PM or just read! Hope you like this one too! This is a bit sappy and fluffy – but what's wrong with that every now and again?

GLUE

Grace looked at the figurine in front of her and smiled fondly. The ornament was of a little, flame haired girl and had been a present from Grandma Van Pelt for Grace's 4th birthday. It didn't matter that it wasn't the most tasteful thing she had ever seen, to Grace it was beautiful and special and so she had been mortified when she had chipped it.

Grace had been determined to fix it, but wasn't sure how to, so she had first gone for a tube of common craft glue. She had found the faults in this glue though. It was great for certain jobs but not this one, the important one. Grace couldn't help but draw parallels between herself and this glue. She had applied the glue with all good intent just as she had in her relationship with Wayne, and it had stuck. But not for long. Just like this glue, at the first sign of stress she had shown her weakness. She had peeled it off and broken the bond and that precious thing was chipped again.

She had then realised that she had to use the superglue. Again the parallels were obvious – but this time not with Grace. This glue was clear, just like he was - his intent, his love, his honesty and willingness to sacrifice. This glue was strong and did the job asked of it without question. She smiled as she thought about her strong, loyal, straight arrow. The smile turned to a sob as she read the side of the tube. Permanent Hold. That's what did it. She knew, she just knew.

Just like the beginning of their relationship, she had been the one that wasn't strong enough to admit to the feelings. And yet she knew in her heart she could call and he'd come running. But she couldn't and wouldn't. She didn't trust herself to have the sticking power to hold it together when that precious thing came under attack. So she must let it be. See their beautiful thing chipped and know that she had been too weak to hold it together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series

**A/N: **Thank you to those of you who reviewed, sent a PM or just read! Hope you like this one too! This one is from a slightly different perspective.

Observant

He's always been totally weak when it came to Van Pelt. From the moment they met that had been it. He'd been a goner, whipped and wasted for anyone else.

The shock was just how decisive he had been during the relationship. Ultimately, he'd stepped up, he'd been willing to make the sacrifice for their happy ever after. That decision had taken courage but also made him vulnerable. Had left him heartbroken.

Now they weren't together anymore was he any different?

Well, his eyes didn't follow her every move anymore; well not his physical eyes anyway. The eyes of his heart, now they were a different story altogether. They instinctively just knew where she was, tracked every movement. If anyone looked closely enough, they would see it as the pulse point in his neck changed it's rhythm and tempo at her smallest move.

And he didn't look up when she spoke. No, but he couldn't quite stop his head turning into her voice slightly, even as she read her reports almost silently back to herself.

Then there was the way his breath hitched as he caught the smell of her perfume as she passed. But no-one would notice, it was so small and controlled.

It was much less controlled when she accidentally touched him. Passing over a file or handing him a cup of coffee. He would either wince as in pain or linger as if trying to relive a caress. Both brought that beautiful pain that only a strong man could endure. And he was strong. It was a surprise at just how strong he was being. It clearly wasn't easy, but he was winning.

Then there was his nervous system. This was what betrayed him the most. It would cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end as she leant over him, or send a shiver down his spine as they sat in close proximity in the car. His outward appearance would seem relaxed unless the tapping, chair swivelling and pen chewing were noticed. If things were really bad his hands would slowly clench and release.

I had once said to him after he'd missed an opportunity to ask Van Pelt out how he would die alone. At the time it had been funny. Now though…..? This strength he was showing was more than admirable. It was noble and had dignity. But I hope it wouldn't kill him. He was, after all, my friend.

Lisbon's voice knocked me out of my thoughts.

"Cho, let's go!"

* I just thought it'd be nice to get someone else's take on what was going on and just love the all seeing, smart, but silent Cho.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series.

**A/N: **Thank you to those of you who reviewed, sent a PM, alerted or just read! This one is again from a different perspective. I hope you can fit this to your own opinion of the person in question one way or the other.

Reasoning

She sat back in her large, comfortable chair, her face against her steepled fingers and smiled.

It had been almost three months since she had given Rigsby and Van Pelt their ultimatum and was thrilled that her strategy had worked. Both had stayed. Ok, from what she heard on the grapevine it had been a close run thing, but it had worked itself out just the way she wanted it.

She knew they had been the talk of the building for a while, what with Rigsby having been so open about his feelings for so long, but she had been surprised that no-one had really known what had been going on between the two. Or was it that they hadn't really cared? She had been sure they'd get over it quickly and was pleased that they had as far as she could see.

She'd heard that Van Pelt had always brushed off any of the guys who had asked her out anyways – well, apart from one that hadn't turned out to be quite who he said he was. But even he hadn't worked for the CBI. The others had been too intimidated by Rigsby to even bother. Eventually though, their irrational emotions had overtaken their 'Cop Common Sense' and they'd started their 'thing'.

Well, rules were rules and she did what she did for the best. They wouldn't understand that yet, but they'd thank her for it in the end and both would easily find other partners. Van Pelt is beautiful and Rigsby handsome so neither need be lonely.

No, her course of action had definitely been the right one. Her own life held testament to that. Broken relationships, worries about whether their kids would have to be brought up in a single parent environment knowing the other had been killed on the job, jumping every time the 'phone rang just in case it was _that _call. Never being able to really leave the job behind them. Her resenting him because she'd have to be off field work and then stay at home to look after the babies.

She wanted to spare them both that.

Well, that was the story she'd tell were she asked. Oh, it was all true, but not the real reason she'd forced their decision.

She had been brought in to reform and repackage the CBI; to raise it's public profile and status as a premier crime fighting force. To do that she needed respect from inside the CBI itself, from the agents on the front line and so she had to go in hard and fast. Show them from day one just who the boss was.

Sure she could have turned a blind eye to Rigsby and Van Pelt just as Lisbon had done. The evidence suggested that their relationship was in no way impeding the excellent reputation their Unit had. Rigsby could be relied upon to have the back of anyone in his unit, but he is overprotective of women, probably even her if the situation were ever to arise. Van Pelt couldn't work any harder to prove herself. But that wasn't the point. Basic rules of being the boss - go for the strongest and the weakest first to get you noticed, then everyone in between falls into place without you having to do anything.

Lisbon was the strongest but her weakness was Jane and vice versa. The weakest targets were Rigsby and Van Pelt. According to their files the young lovers were both strong rule abiders. She knew they wouldn't be able to take the sneaking around – sure Rigsby had had her worried for a while when her friend in the San Francisco office had called to say he'd been offered an opening there, but Grace had unknowingly sorted that out for her. That had saved her pulling strings.

So it was all how she had planned it. She had come in and swept like a new broom should. She had never worried about being liked. That would come later as she could ease off once respect was established.

The Serious Crimes Squad were her most valuable team. They had an amazing clean up rate and respect throughout the CBI and Sac PD alike. This meant that technically there was nothing to sweep. Lisbon was an excellent leader but by letting Patrick Jane be a loose canon and then allowing Rigsby and Van Pelt to date, Lisbon had shown her weakness and that's just what she had needed. Threatening Jane with Lisbon's job and then issuing Van Pelt and Rigsby with the ultimatum had been easy and accomplished everything she needed to, including showing Lisbon what was expected.

Jane was reigned in and she saw the break up make Rigsby and Van Pelt go into super agent mode. Their young love pain would go away but hopefully the attitude to the work would remain. The respect for her office and methods went up enormously and so she'd found that other potential 'problems' had been sorted out remarkably easily, mostly without her intervention. And her best team was restored to its correct working order, perhaps even better than before.

Yes, it was all working perfectly.

No-one would ever call Madeleine Hightower weak.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series.

**A/N:** Well, I got a fed up with not knowing why Wayne hadn't just taken the initiative and gone and left anyway. Not that I wanted him to of course, but it just didn't feel right to me. Thanks for reading, alerting and the pms, very much appreciated.

His heart had been broken. She had said she didn't want the responsibility of him resenting her. As if he ever could. That had hurt. Had she learned nothing about him in the time they'd been together, never mind the year or so before that? So, instead she had taken the responsibility for breaking him, leaving him feeling humiliated and lost and with a wide open wound that he fought to stop becoming infected every day. The truth was that he loved her so much that any bitterness he should have had or may even be justified in having, just couldn't take root. But, did Grace see that? Maybe the damage was done.

And yet still he felt the current situation was his doing. Why hadn't he left anyway? Taken the job in San Francisco and taken that decision out of her hands? 'Manned up' as Cho had so often told him?

Honestly, he hadn't been quite sure himself for a while. Now though, having thought of nothing else, it had initially been the shock of it all. That morning he'd been shot at and that same afternoon he and Grace had discussed what they were going to do in the midst of passionate make out session in an interview room of all places where they'd been busted by Lisbon who had immediately noticed their dishevelled appearance! He'd been the happiest man alive. And then not a few hours later it was all gone.

He'd felt like he'd been hit in the gut. He'd listened as she took the elevator, heard her cry and had just been frozen to his chair. It was like he was in a catatonic state. And yet if she'd have hesitated even for a fraction of a second, he'd have been there, holding her as she sobbed, tried to persuade her, no probably begged, her to reconsider. Told her what was going to happen and that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Made it happen.

But she hadn't. Her mind was made up and he'd been reduced to a shell shocked version of himself.

But why should he be surprised? Really it had been too good to be true hadn't it? What if he had taken the job in San Fran and Grace hadn't come back to him? If she had made that decision without him then she'd made her mind up already hadn't she? The CBI was the nearest thing he had to a family. If she wasn't prepared to talk to him about the sacrifice **he** was going to make then could he really take that risk? Maybe he'd lose everything - Grace and his family. Losing Grace had knocked him sideways, he couldn't handle losing everyone else he cared for too. Maybe more to the point, he couldn't lose the people who cared for him. Especially not now, not when he needed their support. Leaving now would seem like running away. And it might make Grace feel worse or see Lisbon thinking badly of her and that wouldn't be right.

So no, he'd not made any attempt to leave. Honestly, now, he was glad. Ok, he still had the knife twisted every day he had to come in and see her. It wasn't her fault; she honestly believed what she did was the right thing.

What hurts most is how quickly she seems to have recovered and gotten over it – them. Sometimes he thought he saw something in her eyes, especially if Jane made some comment that he knew could hurt. But most of the time, she just got on with the job. Business as usual.

Then he'd overheard someone say the same about him and he knew that he was just putting a good front on it. Was Grace doing the same? Was she too, covering up the wreckage that had been created? Did nothing have meaning for her as well? Was life endless shades of grey for her too?

Was there anything he could do to fix it? The answer was simple. No. There wasn't. So here he was, much worse off than he had been before they'd started dating because now he knew what he was missing. No, he knew what **they **were missing.

The question was – was Grace missing it too?


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing and no-one. They are all Bruno Heller's and I hope he does right by them – and us!

**A/N: ** I'm not usually a songfic fan (BelleLee apart) but when I heard this song, a real favourite of mine, it kind of fit. I think. I did have to make a small edit as it's a man's pov. It's a Hue and Cry song from the album Jazz Not Jazz and it's just gorgeous. This is a bit more angsty than usual for me I think.

Misery

Grace curled up in a ball on her sofa and sobbed. Oh God, what had she done? How could she have been so stupid? She hadn't thought about the cause and effect elements. She had made a monumental decision that had changed the course of her life. And his. She knew that sounded over the top, like some silly romance novel, but it was true. She had hurt the person she loved most in the whole world and only now was she realising just how much she'd hurt herself too.

What was that saying? You reap what you sow?

It had taken a couple of months to really hit home. She had woken up feeling down, a slate grey, rainy day making everything seem so much worse. Being determined to make the best of it, she had decided that pampering herself with a slow morning of a good breakfast, staying in her pjs and reading the newspapers before taking a long hot bath, was the way ahead. Then she had put on her iPod. She went to the playlist menu finding a 'smooth' mix she hadn't heard in a while. It had been the perfect accompaniment until _that _song played. Then it had hit her like a freight train.

**How do you unbreak a window?**

**How do you repair a heart?**

The words washed over her, the melody slicing through her concentration and cutting into her heart.

Her sweet boy. That's what she had done to him wasn't it? She had shattered his heart. She took some comfort in the fact that she had shattered her own too. But what could she possibly do? There was nothing, she knew that. The damage was done, leaving lethal shards that could catch and tear.

Her conscience screamed at her. Accusing her with arrows of truth. Piercing her carefully erected armour of reason.

**If all it took was just some nails and wood,**

**Then I would get to work to rectify your hurt.**

At that moment she wanted nothing more than to drive over to his house and beg his forgiveness, beg him to take her back. But then they would still end up back where they started. And she could hurt him again.

Even if he did forgive her, could he ever trust her again? Trust her not to take the easy option and bail? What had he said to her once? She blew hot and cold on him? He was right. She wanted it her way, she hadn't even talked to him about it – and now they were both paying the price.

She wondered what it would take, what she needed to do to mend the tear and heal the pain.

**What does this require to mend it?**

**How do you repair a heart?**

**The pane is cracked **

**And you're not coming back**

The monumental fall out of her actions overwhelmed her. He's not coming back. He's not coming back! She curled up even tighter, her beautiful face contorted,

her throat raw from trying to swallow tears, her eyes swollen and sore, her body rocking trying to relieve the aching from being so tense.

An inner voice screamed at her that this is what she deserved.

She missed that big, happy presence in her life and then couldn't recall having seen it for a while, even at work. She had chased it away. Did he miss it too?

**My life is sheer debris **

**A mess for all to see**

**But if I fix this there**

**Will it make you care?**

And then she had to let it out. Not that she had much choice. The sobs wracked her entire body in waves. Two months of pretending. Pretending it was the right thing to do. Pretending she was in control. Pretending she had really thought it through. Pretending it would be best for them both.

Pretending she was happy.

Pretending she had moved on.

Pretending she didn't love him.

Pretending that her body didn't long for his.

But what about Wayne? Had he moved on? Did he still love her? Had he found happiness now? If she went over and beat his door down, would he take her back? Would all her explanations make a difference? Or was it too late?

But she would do anything to have him back.

Could she risk it?

**What does this require to mend it?**

**How do you repair a heart?**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: As usual I own nothing, or none of this stuff would be necessary!

A/N: After I saw this episode, this little section wouldn't leave me alone, I mean O'Loughlin really annoyed me, so I though I'd vent my annoyance! This is for Rigspelt Shipper

"Or what?"

The guy had actually said,

"Or what?"

Rigsby threw the pasta, sauce and meatballs onto the plate and went through to his table still furious at the recollection of that conversation.

It had meant to be an innocent statement, one in which any reasonable guy would have seen had in it an admission of defeat. But not O'Loughlin. Oh no, Mr Perfect had to respond like the testosterone fuelled ingrate that is was becoming all too obvious he was.

He should have said, 'thanks man, you don't have to worry' or even 'understood' but all he had was 'or what?'

How could he have not seen the intent behind the comment? Wayne had thought they had reached a truce, albeit and uneasy one. Neither happy with having been paired together, they had remained professional even in a potentially lethal situation, O'Loughlin even congratulating Wayne on his 'outstanding work' that day. Wayne had taken that as an olive branch, a sign that he'd won some respect from the man, after all, he didn't have to have said it. Now, he wasn't so sure. That was always the trouble with the Feds, especially those on the 'fast track' program. They always go for the top of the tree, the fancy, most complicated routes, with most of them having never done any real scut work. Sure they passed the physical, IQ tests and psych evaluations and were trained up to their back teeth. But they just didn't

have the field experience of a cop. No time to learn about people and instincts.

Rigsby recalled going into that trailer, the guy jumping out on them. He knew he had a reputation for not being as quick as the others and although it annoyed him at first, he learned to use it – it took the pressure off. But he could read a situation easily - maybe it was the same trait that made him into an arson expert – and he could tell that the guy in front of them was all talk. Yes, he was dangerous, wielding that gun around, but he didn't really want the confrontation. Years of seeing intended confrontation as a boy enabled him to easily read that in a person. He also sensed that O'Loughlin was ready to either take the guy down or withdraw to negotiate and frankly, they didn't have that much time. So Wayne tried something a little unorthodox, but it wasn't without its reasoning. And it worked, so what the hell? Wayne chuckled as he recalled O'Loughlin looking like a rabbit caught in headlights as he had made his 'put it down or I'll put a bullet in your head' statement.

Then there was that awkward moment in the car when he had heard the pain in Grace's voice as she'd told him Lisbon was gone. He couldn't help his natural response to her, even with her boyfriend sat next to him.

Back at the office all was good. Until he saw Grace. His Grace. There she was sitting at her desk, happiness radiating off of her. He always thought about how she looked like a classical sculpture when she was happy. The flawless porcelain skin and that gorgeous hair.

He couldn't help but wonder whether O'Loughlin noticed Grace, really noticed. Sure he would see the beautiful exterior, but would he see _Grace?_

Would he massage her feet at the end of the day? Would he have washed that stunning hair for her when she was injured and loved every second of it? Would he adore her whether she was wearing silk underwear or his old, well worn T shirt and sweatpants? Would he know how much of herself she put into every case even when she didn't want to show it? Wayne didn't think so.

He wanted her to remain that happy, so he'd put his love and pride to one side and talked to Craig. He hadn't been aggressive or intimidating, not like he'd been with Dan. As men with mutual feelings for Grace, Rigsby had been sure the Fed would understand.

But no. O'Loughlin was 'Or what?' Too controlled by his own machismo to see that someone was looking out for his girl. Ok, it was her ex, but he should have seen the gesture for what it was.

So Wayne would watch and wait, ready to catch Grace when O'Loughlin let her down. Because he would. He was 'Or what?'

And 'Or what?' was weak.


End file.
